In the House On Lakeside Drive (7 page)

The grin faded quickly on the nineteen-year-old. “You wouldn't. I hate olives.”

“We could bring back some Hawaiian pizza,” Remy said with a chuckle. “You like ham.”

“No!” Sam scowled in defeat. “I wanna go for myself. I…I guess it wouldn't be too bad to go and figure out the place.” He turned toward Remy. “Unless someone directs me into a wall, like the
last
time we went somewhere new.”

“Hey, I gave you great directions.
You
turned right instead of left.” Remy shrugged. “Not
my
fault.”

“Oh, fine.”

Rachel laughed. “Go, Sam. Everyone's waiting for the decorations.”

The three young men set off to gather their parts of the cookie-making process as Rachel and Evan watched. “Are we making it too easy for these guys?” Rachel worried. “I mean, they're supposed to be learning to do this on their own, not…”

“No, we're not. It does seem like it, though. These three aren't as…I think the polite term is “high-maintenance” as some we've had in the past.” Evan's eye caught a flicker of something just outside the kitchen window, half hidden by the loosely hanging curtain. “Did you see something?” he asked, walking over and pulling the red fabric aside.

“See what?” Rachel asked, mindful not to be overheard by her tenants.

“I thought…” Evan shook his head. “I thought someone was out there. Guess I was mistaken.”

“Hey, Evan,” Josh called out. “So how do you make the frosting?”

“You don't let Rachel do it, for one,” the man said, putting the worry out of his mind.

“Enough,” Rachel said, playfully hitting Evan upside the head. She picked up a bottle of food coloring and poured a few clear drops into a small bowl. She frowned. “Sam, I thought you were getting the food coloring.”

“I did. Small glass bottle near the onion soup mix. Why?”

“Well, food coloring isn't usually
clear.
She read the label only to find it was badly aged and mostly peeled off. “What
is
this?”

Evan took the bottle from her hand and poured a drop onto his finger. “Ugh,” he said, wincing. “It's almond flavoring.”

Three young faces grimaced. “Almond?” Josh said, his nose wrinkled badly. “That's gross.”

“It's not my fault,” Sam protested. “I went right where I was told. There wasn't a Brailled label on it…”

“I've had that bottle for years, Sam,” Rachel soothed. “Long before you moved in. That's why it wasn't labeled in Braille.”

“Oh. Still, almond frosting?”

“Well, why not? I like it.”

“And you see, guys,
this
is why we don't let Rachel make the frosting,” Evan said with a smile. “I'll make up some vanilla stuff and we'll get to frosting these cookies in no time.”

Chapter 9

“Pour me another.”

The bartender shook his head. “No. You're done.”

“I said, gimme another scotch.” A twenty-dollar bill slid across the bar.

“Keep the money. Liquor license is worth more than that.” The beefy man expertly plucked the glass from his customer's hand, tossing it in the back sink. “Now, you're done. Either switch your drink choice to something softer or get lost.”

A murderous scowl crossed Cooper Lavelle's face. He'd been thrown out of the last three establishments he'd frequented because of a little problem concerning bar tabs not being settled, and it was becoming harder and harder for him to get the service he expected as the quality of his watering holes declined. “Gimme a soda, then.”

The glass returned, thick brown syrupy liquid filling it. “Three bucks.”

“Horseshit,” he said. He reached for a cracked leather wallet, one that had been embossed with his initials in Old English Script when he'd bought it new. Thin fingers took out the last bills inside and tossed them carelessly across the bar. “And you're not gettin' a tip.”

The bartender shrugged, collected the money, and moved on to the next customer. Cooper took the too-sweet beverage and flopped into a booth, letting the drone of the jukebox act as a salve for his throbbing head. The clothes he wore were beginning to stand of their own accord, and it was beginning to grate on the man. An addled mind fished back to the days when he could have things dry cleaned at a moment's notice, and delivered to the house for a modest but acceptable fee. Money hadn't been an issue then. The world had been good.

Nearby, three men sat at a table, nursing their beers as though they were the last dregs of barley and hops on the planet. “So, you gotta plan, or what?” Charlie said, munching on the free chips and salsa provided by the establishment. “'Cause I'm gettin' real sick of drivin' around town freezin' my balls off watchin' some dude drivin' around an' fixin' things.”

“Me too,” Riley seconded. “You promised us some action. It ain't been forthcoming.”

“Those kids are the answer,” Dayton said, twiddling the glass between his palms. “He'd kill for the girl, but he'd move mountains, hell, he'd commit
suicide
if it meant saving those brats.”

Cooper's muddled ears turned toward the conversation.

“Okay, so the kids, how we gonna get 'em? I mean, they're not
that
stupid…”

“I dunno. That one short kid, he's not all there, you know what I'm saying?” Riley countered. “He might be a handful, and that's
before
he figures out what's going on.”

“Yeah, but he looks up to the other two,” Charlie pointed out. “We just gotta convince them to cooperate and he'll come ‘round.”

“And how do you plan to ‘convince' them?” Dayton asked. “I highly doubt you'll get a needle in their arm or ether in their systems.”

“Well, okay,” Charlie said. “You're so smart, you figure it out!”

“Easy,” Dayton said, his pale face graying under the badly dimmed lights above them. “The one kid's got a problem relative of some sort. We can use that.”

“For
that
one,” Riley emphasized. “That tall boy? I seen him messing around with that white stick of his. Kid's pretty good with that thing, an' I don't mean just walking with it.”

“Easy enough to get around. Kid can't see, and fear of the unknown is a powerful motivator,” Dayton reasoned. “Besides, I don't think he'll be that much of a problem.”

“And the ball of fun? Plannin' on leavin' him out?”

“Of course not. The trick will be getting all of them at the same time. We've gotta be on top of this. Any delay and one could get out a warning, make things difficult for us.” Dayton leaned back in his chair, stretching out his skinny frame.

“Could say the problem relative is threatening to press charges, or sue for guardianship over the kid or some such shit.”

“Still only gets us one,” Charlie said.

“No, but I'm sure families—and the cops—wouldn't take well to finding out our bright upstanding citizen Liam has a dark and troubled past,” Dayton said. “Especially seeing as he liked his pills a bit too much.”

“
That's
gonna take some setup,” Riley said. “Might be fun to mess with the guy's head a little before we swoop in, though.”

A thoughtful smile graced Dayton's lips. “I like it. Rattle his cage a bit, then take the prize. You're right—he'll do just about anything to get them back, and then try to salvage what's left of his brand-new life.”

“It's a plan, then.” Riley stood up. “I'm heading out for some more entertainment. Gotta figure out how to set the plan in motion. Charlie, you with?”

“Yeah.” The burly man drained his beer. “I'm drivin'.”

“Like hell you are.”

“I'll make my own way back,” Dayton said. “I need another beer.” He raised his hand, flicking his wrist to signal another round.

From his booth, Cooper stared at the skinny man. The young man was obviously planning something, and if he played his cards right, it might just benefit Cooper himself in the process. He'd never been much of one for doing actual work—there were always others he could hire for that—but as the funds dried up he'd gotten more and more creative in finding ways to avoid lifting a finger for his keep. He was good at keeping secrets, though. His brother learned that the hard way.

I'll have to keep tabs on this guy,
he thought, his eyes never leaving the scraggly youth.
Might be able to work my own angle; make a nice profit on his operation without him knowing about it…

Chapter 10

“Hey, wake up! Wake up!”

The sound of his housemate pounding down the stairs made Remy groan and turn over in his still-inviting bed. He closed his eyes, pressing the ends of his pillow against his ears to block out the noise.

“Josh, what the hell…” Sam called out, irritated. More footsteps made their way toward the stairs, these ones lighter than the first.

“There's someone outside!”

Now Remy was motivated. He rubbed his tired eyes, pulled on a t-shirt, and made for the first floor of the old house. He turned toward the master bedroom underneath the staircase and found the room empty, dark and deserted. It was at that moment that he remembered Miss Rachel and Evan had gone into North Kingston for a weekend trip to a casino.
“It'll be three days,”
Evan had said when Rachel fussed about leaving their tenants behind.
“They're adults. I'm sure the house will stay in one piece.”

Sam hissed, causing the three young men to fall silent. “Remy,” he whispered, “Josh isn't wrong. There
is
someone out there.”

“How many?”

Sam's ears perked up. “Sounds like two, maybe three people. Maybe.”

Crap,
Remy thought. He made a mental tally of what could possibly be in the house that someone might want to steal, and was coming up blank. The unlit living room grew darker, and with a quick glance into the night he saw what looked like a figure creeping toward the living room window. “Josh!” he called out, as loud as he dared. “Get the hell away from the windows!”

“I just wanna see,” Josh hissed, minding the elder tenant's warning. “Maybe we should call the cops?”

“On it,” Sam said, pulling out his smartphone. He made use of the voice activation features to open the line to emergency services when the creak of a floorboard in the back of the kitchen startled the group. Heavy footfalls resounded against the tired wood, and the sound of a door creaking put Remy on edge.

“Now what?” Sam asked, his voice barely a whisper. Beside him, Josh stood dumbstruck and thankfully silent.

“Get in Evan and Rachel's room. Now.” Remy took Sam's hand as he walked ever so slowly across the floorboards, willing them not to squeak and give away their position in the house. The idea of running out of the house had been the first one to come to mind, but the uncertainty of what might be waiting for them in the open had put that thought firmly to rest. He held his breath until they reached the safety of the master bedroom below the stairs, and with a soft
click
set the lock firmly in place. “Grab that chair, Josh,” he said in a low voice, pointing at a large armchair that sat in a corner of the room.

“What for?”

“To put up against the door.”

“Oh. Okay.” It took all three of them to move it, though Sam could do little more than lift and move in the direction he was told. Once it was placed, the young blind man reached out for his phone, which was still on hold with the authorities.

Remy stood near the door, his ear pressed against the wood. Above them, feet walked across the floors of their bedrooms, and the occasional
thud
and
crash
of objects falling rang out. Muted voices whispered in hushed tones, and Remy wished that he possessed hearing abilities like his friend next to him. “Sam,” he whispered, catching his best friend's attention. “What are they saying?”

The phone was quickly passed over to Josh. “You tell them there's a break-in at Miss Rachel's. You remember the address?”

Josh's normally loud voice was very thin. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Then Sam turned his ears to the conversations above them. His face drew into a frown, and his breathing quickened. “They're looking for something.”

“What?” Remy asked. “Maybe if we knew what it was…”

“I can't tell. They're in my room, which is the farthest point from here. I can hear them going through things, but not what they're talking about.”

“How can you hear that but not the words?”

“My hearing's sharp, but not that sharp. There are layers of wood and drywall and insulation to consider, plus the way the house is setup is not conducive to me hearing whispered conversations in my room upstairs from down here. Probably the reason Miss Rachel gave me that room in the first place.”